How About a massage? Part 2: revenge
by Anna Nomis
Summary: Sequel to "how about a massage then?", Dean gets back at Sam for tickling the crap out of him by giving him a vicious taste of his own medicine.


How about a massage? Part 2: revenge

As soon as dean started walking towards him, Sam knew he was royally screwed. But because he is not known for giving up, Sam takes his chances and runs. The problem is: Dean is not known for giving up either.

Their chase carries them through the kitchen, past the couch and into an eating area where they play almost a little dance, each moving on one side of the table. They remain in this pose till Dean's steps falter for a moment, and Sam -seeing his slim chance- takes the opportunity. But he underestimated Deans surprising speed, expecting to be able to get into a bedroom and lock the door. Hopefully to wait out until Dean loses his vengeful tickling flair. No such luck.

Dean barrels through the door before sam even has a chance to shut it completely. "Dean please, we only did it to help you. I'm sorry Dean, no wait-" sam's plea is cut off as dean tackles him onto the bed. 'Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.' Sam thinks to himself, trying to twist out of his brothers vice-like grip. "Sorry Sammy, an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth." Then he looks down and winks "a tickle for a tickle." Sam just grunts and goes back to struggling, but by now it was hopeless. Dean was awkwardly positioned on top of his legs at an angle, leaning forward to keep hold on sam's straining arms.

Dean was still out of breath from his own ticklish experience, but lust for revenge gave him a new spark of energy.'Sam will be easy to get back on, but the angel….' dean thinks to himself. 'Sam is ticklish everywhere and his reflexes just kind of shut down as soon as you touch him, but Cas is a damn warrior of heaven.' His thought continues as he grabs a stray dress tie and robe belt to make an improvised retrain for his brothers ever-flailing arms.

Sam, as it sensing his thought process, takes a new tactic to plea to Dean. "If you let me go, I'll help you get back at Cas. You know you can't do it alone. You want to get back at him just as much as you want to get back at me." Sam states hopefully, stopping his struggling for a moment to look at Dean with his signature puppy eyes.

Dean didn't even consider for a second. "Counter offer." He says, smirking. "How about I tickle the living shit out of you, 10 times worse than you did to me, and THEN you still help me get back at Cas." Dean finishes, with an innocent, smug grin. Sam looks like he was going to argue more, but then shut his mouth again, seemingly realizing he wasn't really in a position to demand or bargen. Dean was in control and both of them know it.

Fully aware he won, dean continues "You want to get back at Cas too. He left you with me. THAT'S how I know you will help me either way. So sit back, relax, and laugh Sammy." Dean finishes, in a sing song voice.

In one more frantic burst, Sam pulls against his restraints, but Dean had them tied tighter than Cas's sarcasm level. In other words: unmovable.

"N-no Dean plehehease." Sam begs as Dean lifts up his shirt, giggling now from pure, dreadful anticipation.

"Sthohohop Dehehehehean! Youuuu can't-t do thihihihis!" He begs as his brother begins swirling his fingers around his Moose of a brother's stomach.

"Oh I can't? Is that's so Sammy? I can't do it? What a shame." He says with a lazy grin, changing pace to dig his hands full force into sam's stomach. The laughter that erupted from the man was unimaginable.

"NOOOOOOOOO DEHEHEHEAN! PLEASEEEEE HAHAHA NOHOHO." He cries, pulling hopelessly at his restraints as his blue eyed tickle demon of a brother works his hands up and down Sam's entire front.

Despite that his original intentions were revenge, Dean couldn't help but feel a loving tinge break through. It has been a while since the two of them had acted like brothers.

'And the little bitch deserves it for wounding my pride like that. Especially in front of the angel.' Dean thinks, the thought causing blood to rush to his face.

But instead of dwelling on the thought, he pushes it away and channels it into his hands. Sam obviously feels the difference because his laughter increases to where he can't even plead anymore.

"HAHAHHAHAH DEHEHEHEHHAN" was all he could manage before it goes silent. His face red and teary.

Dean should stop, he knows it, but he promised to get back at them both tenfold. Dean isn't one to break a promise.

However, he does give him a break. "Are you done?" Sam gasps, with bleary hope in his eyes.

"Not even close." The blonde Winchester replies. "How could I? I haven't even gotten to your worst spot yet Sammy." He continues with a wink.

Sam immediately stiffens, all hope gone from his system. "Oh do you remember that spot Sammy boy? The spot that you always lost to? The one that turns your giant-ass samsquach of yourself turn to goo?" Dean continues, enjoying himself way too much.

"Dean please, I've had enough. I'm sorry you don't like being tickled but you were in a funk and - oh shihihihit." Sam's plea for mercy was cut off as Dean remounts his attack.

"Breaks over." He exclaims gleefully. Sam just laughs and squeezes his eyes shut in response.

But then Dean turns himself around, Sam immediately starts flailing, knowing exactly where Dean was going.

"NOOOOO DEAN PLEASE DON'T I'M BEGGING YOU!" Sam screams as Dean lifts one of his legs.

"No can do Samantha, I think your special spot under your kneecaps need some love." The older man responds with his signature 'I'm a jerk but I love it' grin.

Already giggling in awful anticipation, Sam finally comes to terms that Dean had his mind set on breaking sam into tickling oblivion. And he was damn sure going to do it. Sam was screwed and he absolutely knew it.

Dean stripes one finger down sam's under-knee and earns a stifled squeak and a knee jerk. Then he adds two more fingers and starts gently strokes the sensitive skin, grinning as he does so.

"Nnnnoooo D-dehehean st-t-tohohop!" He pleads trying to twist his way out of dean's death grip around his legs. No such luck, Sam was strapped down for the ride until dean was done. Which he didn't seem anywhere close to being.

"Once again: I don't think so. But I like this begging thing Sammy. Let's kick it up a notch shall we?" And with those uttered words, Dean goes full attack under Sam's kneecaps. To say Sam yelled would be a horrendous understatement.

"PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHO AHHH! DEAN NOHO MOHOHOREEE!" He cries, all while thrashing and flailing and tugging and honestly: failing.

"NOT THERE NOT THERE NOT THEHEHEHRE!" He knew it was hopeless but Sam just couldn't stop, he was in ticklish hell. 'Thank goodness that doesn't actually exist.' He thinks to himself. 'But then again, this is pretty damn bad too.'

Finally, when it became obvious Sam could no longer really breathe, Dean let up. Leaving a panting Sam with his eyes closed in the bed.

He reaches up and releases the knots keeping sam's arms immobile. Which took a while due to the fact sam's constant pulling tightened them insanely. Resorting to grab the knife next to the bedside and cutting it.

Even after the restraints were gone, Sam's arms stayed above his head, too exhausted even to make the slightest movement.

"Fuck you." Sam mumbles with a drowsy grin. He attempts to flip dean off but only succeeds in slightly rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.

Dean just laughs and pats his worn brothers' back. "Bitch." He says.

"Skxjd." Sam responds, his face still in the pillow, but they both knew he said "jerk."

"Be sure to get some rest Sammy. You're helping me get back at the angel tomorrow. My revenge ain't done yet." Dean atayes gleefully as he walks out of the bedroom.

Sam only groans and let's sleep pull him away to dreams of kneecaps and laughter and dick angles.


End file.
